


Waiting

by Guardian Of The Lotus (DistantStorm)



Series: Fictober 2019 [27]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 06:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21193490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/Guardian%20Of%20The%20Lotus
Summary: Suraya cannot.Written for day 28 of the Fictober 2019 Challenge on Tumblr: "Can you wait for me?"





	Waiting

He has both palms full, fingers spread wide over the curve of her ass. She's muscular, but with a pleasing layer of fat over top - healthy, now that she's eating three meals a day in the City. He can't help but flex his fingers over the weave of her utility pants, wishing very much he were touching soft, dark skin.

The only sound in the room is heavy breathing and the smack of lips together and away as they kiss each other in earnest. His hands guide her in a slow grind against his armor, doing nothing for him but reminding him how constricting (but not enough for friction, even uncomfortable friction at that) his codpiece is, but it doesn't matter. She's wound up tight and he wants to give, give, give.

She makes needy little groans, likely unaware of it, when he mouths along her jaw, uses his nose to brush the hood back from her ear. Her legs tighten against his, and she lets her hands fall from the base of his neck to rest against the back of the couch, leaning his head back when she sinks against him with her full weight.

"You're sure we don't have time?" She gasps, when he nuzzles her neck and sucks a bloom that will be hidden by the collar of her thermal. "I could," She pauses, her breathing ramping up when he rocks her in a firmer rhythm against his hips.

"No," He replies, and she sighs in frustration. "Damn armor."

She laughs. "Not even if we," She pauses, huffing, "Just the necessary parts?"

"Not worth risking it," He replies. "We'll have to finish this later."

Groaning, heady with the anticipation of what later means, Suraya returns to kissing him. There is nothing chaste or subtle about it. She nips his lower lip, swiping her tongue against his teeth and the edge of his own.

Something about the two of them and even seconds of spare time reduces them to teenagers - driven by lust and hormones - tangling together behind closed doors even in their workspaces. He's never been so out of control.

Or felt so alive. It's reckless enough - controlled, though, it isn't as though the door to his office is unlocked. And really, this does (when he gets his, mind you) take the edge off.

She whines, demanding his attention, not wanting to pull back from his pelvis, hips jerking out of time with the rhythm of his hands and he hums indulgently. "Turn over," He says against her cheek. Her dark eyes are half lidded as she slides off of him. He leans forward, quick to take from her what he knows she wants. She might act otherwise but he knows she likes him steering her toward that point of no return. 

Her legs splay out over his, parted wide, her full weight pressed into him. He realizes there's some friction now, her weight is delicious. He bucks up into her and she throws her head back. Knowing she gets him aroused always makes hers double. His teeth worry her neck and she rocks up into nothing, so he smooths his hands down from her clavicles, across her breasts, abdomen, and to her hips. One cups her mound through her clothes and she does her damnedest to grind against him in fast, needy twinges. Close. She's close.

It's good, because he doesn't have very long. She needs to be out of here in five minutes, and he's got the faction reps arriving in seven. 

"Can you wait for me?" He asks teasingly, even as he's slipping his hand beneath her poncho and the thermal below that, hand scissoring the snaps of her utility pants apart, tucking beneath the waistband of her underwear and she's gasping, writhing, crying out.

"No," She says, impatient. "No, no, I can't, please."

He sinks two fingers into her and curls them just how she likes, stroking those hot walls inside her, feeling them spasm and clench onto him, wanting more. Wanting precisely what he wants: to rock herself on his cock until he comes, then let him use his mouth on her, taste them both on his tongue while he makes her follow. He rocks up into her in earnest, sighing at the feel of her weight, giving him something dangerously good, making him want to topple over the edge with her. He can't. But he wants to.

Three minutes.

"Come now or you'll wait until later," He tells her. 

She's always come through in a pinch. 

Suraya tips her head against his jaw and kisses him hard, and his pace inside her becomes grueling. It's everything. Too much and just enough and she's sinking into it, open-mouth panting against his neck as she comes, slick across his fingers.

She slides off him and he almost thinks she's going to stagger, but she manages to right herself. He's licking her come from his fingers when she turns around and blinks in faux innocence when she rolls her eyes. Not that she's annoyed. He knows she isn't, watching him suckle his fingers greedily. If anything, it makes her abdomen clench.

He kisses her once more before she goes, letting her taste herself on his mouth. He pulls back just as there's a knock on his door. Hawthorne raises her hood over her head, easily hiding any mussed hair or red marks on her throat. 

"We will reconvene later," He bids her.

Suraya stalks past Lakshmi, always the first to arrive, and turns back to give him a smirk behind the Exo's back. "I guess we will," She says, making sure to sound put out about it.

His eyes narrow.

Oh, they will. That much is certain. But for now, Lakshmi is perching herself on the couch he's just risen from and Zavala schools his features into an impassive, stoic mask. 


End file.
